Aging Life
by logica
Summary: Grissom contemplates


DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.

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He was old. One month ago, he dreadfully stepped into the fifth circle of his life. Fifty, Gil Grissom, respected scientist and…an old man.

Fifty.

How that number rang in the small space of his ear canal; the age dragging its feet on the fleshy corridors, ripping away the dusty, forgotten layers of his formal youth and leaving matchless cobwebs behind.

Youth. He once was young. But he forgot what 'youth' meant. His entire life revolved around science, bugs, dead bodies. Other young boys and girls went out to dance, have fun. He sat in his room, watching eagerly the latest hatching of the _first instar_ caterpillars. That was fun for him, enjoyment emerging from the knowledge which he received about the life-cycle of the Darkling Beetle.

Some people burry themselves in their work and their brain have little recollection of the swift passage of time. That late realization of time had brought him here: In his office, staring at the quiet pet tarantula in the glass home in front of him. Hearing nothing else but the quiet tapping of the metallic end of his pen and the deaf heartbeats behind his ribs while he contemplated about his slipping age. A lonely sigh escaped him.

He started living but it came late in his life.

Everything about his life was packed in a big, neat box. Every piece of memory – good or bad – tucked neatly inside small tubes and placed in careful order within the walls of that box, after all he liked order. In that box was his youth as well, looking rather pale. Some people are as old as they feel, and Grissom felt too old.

The door opened and a cool breeze was smuggled between the newly uncovered space between the door and its frame. Swiftly traveling through the stale air of the office, and then touching the skin on his face. He looked up to see who could have the bravery to interrupt him in his lonely time of self-examination.

"The shift's over. Ready to go?" The sand grain-filled voice that came out of those thinly shaped lips danced across the room and landed softly on the entrance of his ear-canals.

"Go where?" he sounded confused.

"The _Terror Screams_ ride that they just opened?" she reminded him. "The one you promised to take me to." Her lips revealed her pearly teeth when a heart-shaped grin framed them eagerly. Give her pony tails, a lollipop, a nice little pink dress, and reduce her height, and she could resemble an impatient nine-year-old perfectly.

Her reminder, lit very few candles for the revelation to fully hit him. Grissom must have dived into that examination way too deeply. His head moved, his eyes narrowed, however he remained clueless.

Sara crossed her arms and cleared her throat a few times. "'Sara, you know that new roller coaster ride that is opening next week? Well, since Warrick has bailed on me. Care to keep me company?'," she said, her imitation being rather convincing.

Blinking a few times, the final candle lit and the entire memory of that day hit him a bit too insensitively in the face. "Oh, that one. Yeah, I… uh… I just need to finish reading this," he said and quickly grabbed the small report in his hands.

"Ok, um…" Sara quickly rushed through his desk with her mellow brown eyes and took the latest issue of the Scientific Journal. "I'll wait," she said and sat down quietly on the chair.

"Good," he smiled briefly and let his gaze fall upon the black letters of the report.

Minutes passed, but how many, he wasn't sure. A few page-turns disturbed the otherwise meek silence of the room. This gave him an indication that Sara's attention had been taken by the article's contents. Grissom used this opportunity and slowly but vigilantly guided his blue eyes over to the youthful and quiet face of his… well, friend.

The lowered eyelids with their eyelashes that were draped over her attentive eyes. The moving lips as if her tongue had been trying desperately to wipe away some annoying stain on the inner cave walls of her mouth. The wavy hairs tucked carefully behind her nicely-shaped ears, leaving the remaining loose strains to brush a few centimeters of the skin on her cheeks and neck. Her left index finger brushed softly against the paper of the cover before placing itself on the page of the current article.

For a moment, Grissom wondered whether she was chewing gum, as her lips, although closed, took a long time before finally giving themselves some rest. He could picture a tiny, pink mass peaking through a small crack between those lips, growing and growing, before finally turning into a large balloon and then, because of its limited capacity to hold air, it would burst! And the slightly loud sound would interrupt the old silence in the office.

An irresistible itch pulled out its hook to grab onto the edge of Grissom's lip and pull it up until the right side of his face developed into a smiling form, because of those images before him. The alluring simplicity of her present appearance caused him to unconsciously bring that sweet deformity to his lips and side of his face.

His reaction reminded him of something else. He was old when he was alone but he felt unbelievably young when he shared space with her. Every single time those earthly eyes would capture his in a sweet manner, one year of his aging life would easily slip and fall farther away as if it had never been there. "Done," he said with the intention to pull her attention away from the printed word and towards him. He succeeded. Sara looked at him. One year fell. His heart skipped a beat because of the regaining gladness of a youth once thought to have been lost.

"Great!" She even smiled.

Two years.

Taking off his glasses, Grissom then put all his documents neatly away and stood up simultaneously with Sara. "It's been ages since I went to a roller coaster of that frightful category," she said.

Smirking, Grissom walked over to the door and reached for the handle. His arm then felt a gentle tug. He wanted to turn his face towards her but Sara's lips found themselves closer to his right ear. He didn't even get to feel the warm breath, which so easily escaped those lips on such a tiny distance, when she whispered: "_We turn not older with years, but newer every day_."

His eyes managed to catch hers when he smiled softly back at her. "Emily Dickinson," Grissom said and saw her smile once more.

His hand opened the door and he walked through it. Sara followed him until the space in the corridor allowed her to walk beside him. Gil Grissom glanced at her. Sara Sidle – what a name, what a woman.

"I feel like screaming," she said and chuckled.

He did not feel old after all.

**THE END**


End file.
